Fate
by lostinquinntanawonderland
Summary: What happens when a genial Ravenclaw collides with a scornful one? Glee/Harry Potter Crossover. Set in Harry's fourth year in Hogwarts. I'll try my best to make it non-HP-reader-friendly.
1. Friends?

I close the door to the Ravenclaw Common Room behind me and suddenly feel all the blood in my body freeze when I turn around and see who the only person in the room with me is.

There she is, sitting by the fireplace, with her head bowed down, her hazel eyes on our one of our textbooks, "_The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection_", some of her blonde locks tucked behind an ear, and her face more mesmerizing than ever with the light from the nearby flames illuminates it, if her face could even get more any more compelling.

_What is she doing here all alone?_

I let out a deep breath and start walking towards her.

She only looks up when I've already sat on the carpet, directly in front of her, and slumped my bag down beside me.

"Santana Lopez," she says simply in her signature low, unintentionally seductive voice.

If I weren't Santana fucking Lopez, I wouldn't have managed to answer her because, at the moment, I was distracted by her sweet scent, the same aroma I sensed when Professor Snape once made us smell a bottle of Amortentia—the strongest love potion ever made by wizards.

"Quinn Fabray," I reply, not sure whether I should smile at her or not.

You see, Quinn and I aren't exactly friends, which is kind of odd. We're both in the same house and on our fourth year in Hogwarts and we even sleep in the same dorm room. I'm also athletic enough to be part of our Quidditch team as a Chaser, just like her. We're purebloods and quite popular since we are attractive and all, but we don't belong to the same circle of friends and we've never really talked to each other. The truth is this is the first conversation we ever had. We have a lot of differences in our way.

For one, my name is known all throughout the school because, aside from my good looks and intelligence, I am fairly kind-hearted, friendly, reliable and approachable. That's why I'm expected to become a prefect next year. Quinn, on the other hand, is acknowledged because people, even the students in higher years, fear her ever since her first year in Hogwarts. She doesn't even need to threaten anyone to keep them from getting in her way. Just a death glare sent in one's way could send anybody, even guys, running to the bathroom to hide and cry.

Besides, her family is composed of a lot of notorious Death Eaters, the followers of the Dark Lord who's never seen since the night Harry Potter deflected the Killing Curse Voldemort directed at him, and rumors say she would have been next in line if only Voldemort never disappeared. My family, on the other hand, consists of flourishing Aurors, members of an elite unit of highly-trained, specialist officers within the Department of Magical Law Enforcement of the Ministry of Magic trained to investigate crimes related to the Dark Arts, and apprehend or detain Dark wizards and witches, and I'm planning to be one, too, in the future.

Despite the conflicts, I have always been smitten by her. I don't know her that much, and I've heard all about her dark personality, but I've always admired the way she looks, the way she moves, the way she is.

"So, what are you doing here all alone?" I ask out of curiosity since, normally, she would either be around admirers from all the houses or her Slytherin friends, including her best friends who are both also from families of Death Eaters, Finn and Mike.

She looks around the room as she says, "This became full when I came in. There were a couple of students doing their homework and chatting when I entered surrounded by a swarm of conceited boys from our Quidditch team drooling at me." Then, she looks directly at me. "I told everyone of them to scat because I don't need their company. The rest in the room looked at each other before following them out."

"Oh…" I almost whisper before seizing my bag and standing up. "Sorry. I guess I'll—"

"No," she stops me. "Stay."

"But you just said you don't need any company."

"I said I didn't want _their_ company. I didn't exactly say that I wanted to be alone."

"Point taken," I utter before sitting back down.

I'm already writing an essay for Divination on a parchment I've rested on a throw pillow when Quinn breaks the silence.

"I don't really get why I'm here." I raise my eyebrow in response.

"I don't get why I've been placed here in Ravenclaw," she explains. "I should have been in Slytherin."

"Well, you are one of the smartest among the smartest in our batch."

She bites her lip as she thinks of an answer. "Yeah. Sure. Next to Granger. See? Even she's sorted into Gryffindor. Don't you think I'm more arrogant than I am intelligent?"

I shrug. "How should I know? I don't really know you."

She tilts her head and nods in agreement. "It's really annoying for me, though—being here. This house is full of geeks. Almost everyone's a bore."

"At least, we have a great view from our Common Room." The arched windows set into the walls of our circular room look down at the school grounds: the lake, the Forbidden Forest, the Quidditch pitch and the Herbology gardens. As the prefect who welcomed us during our first day in Hogwarts said, no other houses have such a stunning view.

She nods again, and just stares at me for a while. Then, she says, "Why aren't we friends?"

_Because you're Quinn fucking Fabray, genius._

I decide not to speak my mind, just blink and shrug.

She smiles and says words that might just turn my life upside down. "I guess it's not too late to start, is it?"

_Nope. Definitely not._


	2. Anywhere, Blondie

**Since I'm having a serious writer's block on the rest of my stories, I guess I'll just update this one. :))**

**Oh, and I've fixed some mistakes on the first chapter. I committed them since my original draft was about their fifth year, but then I remembered that the fourth book's my favorite and is the most exciting one, so… You might want to reread it.**

**And thanks for the reviews. Keep them coming, loves. :bd**

* * *

I almost jumped a mile when I wake up and see Quinn staring at me. I place my hand just over my heart and feel it go a hundred beats per second.

"Jesus. What the hell are you doing?" I ask her, who's sitting on her bed, which is right next to mine, with her face void from any emotion and her eyes aimed at me, with shock still in my voice.

She just shrugs and takes a sip from the mug of hot chocolate she is holding. "So, what do you usually do on weekends like this?"

I let out a big huff before saying, "Seriously, Quinn. You've been watching me sleep?"

She shrugs again and takes another sip. "I woke up at six and started to wait for you to wake up. When seven came by, I got bored, so I went down for a minute to get some hot chocolate."

I check my alarm clock and see that it's almost half an hour after eight. "You've been watching me sleep for two hours?"

There goes another shrug and another sip. "It's okay. I didn't catch you snoring or mumbling words while you're asleep."

I just blink and get up from my bed to fix it. As I'm folding my blanket, Quinn keeps staring and utters, "You haven't answered my question."

I sit back down on my bed facing Quinn and wrap my arms around my legs. "Hogsmeade," I say simply. Hogsmeade is the only all-wizarding village in Britain. "Honeydukes, particularly. Then, I spend the rest of my time in the library." The Honeydukes Sweetshop is famous for selling wizarding sweets of all descriptions, and I always swing by the place since I, as an energetic teen, need my daily dose of sugar.

Quinn raises an eyebrow. "Really? I've spent all my weekends exactly the same way. How come we've never ran into each other?"

I shrug and smirk. "Must be fate."

She rolls her eyes and sips the last drop of her drink. "I love Chocolate Skeletons," she tells me.

I feel my eyes widen. "Really? Me, too. And Skeletal Sweets and Sugar Skulls."

Then, she smiles.

_I never thought I'd see Quinn smile this much._

"And I hate Chocolate Frogs. When I was younger, my dad would buy me a whole lot of them and I'd just wrinkle my nose in disgust. I'd let him eat them all, and I'd just collect the cards."

I chuckle and respond, "Me, too. And the Peppermint Toads. I can't stand them."

She nods. "I'd rather have the blood-flavored lollipops. They're actually not bad."

"Those are my favorite! And the Bat Blood's Soup!" That's when I first saw Quinn laugh in a kind way. Most of the time, she would just snicker at students being bullied.

"And I've never touched a single Every Flavor Bean ever since I came across the rotten egg flavored one."

I chortle and utter, "Oh, wait 'til you taste the one that tastes like a sock. And I'll never forget that time when I tasted a vomit-flavored bean. I always feel the urge to throw up even just when I would see a box of those Bertie Bott's Every Freakin' Flavor Beans."

"Well, I'm glad I've stopped eating them, then." She tilts her head and tells me, "So, can we go out together?"

_Oh, God, yes._

I sneer. "Did you just ask me out?"

She smirks. "Oh, did I? I think I just did." She stands up without removing her smirk and gaze directed at me. "Must I invite you to the shower, too?"

I shake my head and walk to my trunk. "I'll go with you," I say as I open my trunk to retrieve my toiletries and clothes.

She quips, "To the shower?"

"Anywhere, Blondie," I retort, before walking past her and running out of the room to the bathroom.

_I meant it._

* * *

The next morning, I wake up when I feel arms wrapping themselves around me from behind.

"It's almost nine," I hear Quinn's voice against my hair. "I just got tired of staring, so I'll just sleep with you, okay?

_Wow. After a day with me at Hogsmeade and the library, she's already this comfortable with me. How nice._

I give her a small nod and a groan in response.

She chuckles softly before murmuring, "Are you always this lazy during weekends?"

I shake my head. "Only when we don't have any homework," I mumble against my pillow, still loud enough for Quinn to hear.

I feel my heart race when she tightens her grip around me.

_Can she feel it against my back?_

I abruptly sit up in panic, almost forgetting that Quinn's attached to me.

"Hey," she glares and throws a pillow at me. "Lie back here. You were comfy."

_Wow. Who knew Quinn was a cuddler?_

"It's nine." I reply plainly. "I was thinking I'd like to practice on the Quidditch pitch today," I add to hide my panic.

She nods and sits up before resting her head on my shoulder. "I wish I had a Firebolt."

_God, you smell so good._

I raise my eyebrow as I try to calm my pounding chest. "I'm pretty sure you could afford it. What's stopping you?"

"My dad says I should pass at least 5 N.E.W.T.s before he could allow me to have one, which means I have to wait for at least three years before I'd get one." Seventh year students are the ones given these examinations.

"Oh. Well, I'm pretty happy with my Nimbus 2000."

She shrugs and gets up. "Tomes and Scrolls and Three Broomsticks afterwards?"

I nod and say, "Anywhere, Blondie."


	3. Interesting

"Faster, Santana! Faster!" Quinn's scream keep ringing in my ears.

"I am trying, Quinn!"

"You can do a lot better than this, you know!"

"I know, I know!"

"Go faster, San!"

"Shut up, Quinn. This is the best I can do, okay?"

"Argh. Fine." Suddenly, Quinn stops her broomstick, which gives me a mini-heart attack. I almost fall when I panic and abruptly put my broomstick to a stop from fifty.

I clutch my chest as I try to get over the shock and horror. I look at Quinn who's smirking and mockingly spinning the Quaffle on her index finger. "Slowpoke."

I just glare and huff in response. "You almost killed me, you know."

She throws the Quaffle at me and says, "Sorry. Let's take a break, then." I sigh before flying after her down the stands.

I finish all the contents of my water bottle almost at once. To say that I'm really exhausted would be a huge understatement. After a simple game of standing on either side of a hoop and tossing the Quaffle through the hoop to each other for a whole hour, Quinn and I finally got bored. We decided to race around the place, instead. We have been chasing each other for the last hour around the Quidditch pitch. No, _I_ have been chasing _Quinn_ all around the pitch to retrieve the Quaffle from her, unfortunately in vain. I'm not really used to flying rapidly, and Quinn had a great headstart, so it's no surprise that I never caught up with her. Besides, I was too distracted when she started to get sweaty. The sight's too hot for me to handle.

And I'm having the same dilemma now, only this time it's worse. I'm just an arm stretch away from her and she still looks like she doesn't have any intention to wipe her sweat away. She's just sitting here, panting and gazing down at her sneakers.

I didn't notice I was staring—no, I didn't notice she's aware of the fact that I was staring until she asks me without looking up, "Why are you staring?"

I bite my lip and extended my towel at her. "I-I… It's just that you're full of sweat."

"And you can't keep your eyes off of me because you think it's hot?" She looks up at me with her signature cocky smirk.

_And to think that I thought Quinn might actually be different._

I roll my eyes when she grabs my towel and wipes her forehead.

_Poor towel. I think I'll never wash you again. Ever._

"Thank you," she mumbles as she hands me back my towel. "It's too bad that all of our training wouldn't be put to good use this year," she says before chugging down the last drops of her water.

I frown when I remember that there'll be no Quidditch matches in Hogwarts because of the Triwizard Tournament. It's a good thing that they allow us to play in the pitch, anyway. "I'm kind of excited for the tournament, though," I utter.

The Triwizard Tournament is a contest held between the three largest wizarding schools of Europe: Durmstrang Institute, the Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, and our own school. Each of the three schools is to be represented by one champion apiece. The selected champions would compete in three tasks designed to test magical ability, intelligence and courage, traditionally judged by the Headmasters or Headmistresses of the competing schools. Champions compete for the honor and glory of winning the Tournament, and the prize for the victor is the Triwizard Cup and a thousand Galleons.

She scoffs and says, "But it sucks. We're not even allowed to join."

After the Tournament was banned because the death toll it caused has been too high, it's resurrected this year with a few restrictions. Among them is the rule that prevents students from under the age of seventeen to join, which disqualifies us and all of our batch mates to compete.

"I bet Cedric's going to be our champion."

"Yeah. Well, at least, we don't have to wait that much. They're going to announce it tomorrow night. I hope he gets chosen. It's about time an exceptional Hufflepuff would finally emerge."

_Nope. She's definitely not different._

"Tsk. You… Housist?" I half-joke and half-ask.

"Housist?" My heart pounds as she laughs softly. "Well, it's true. You know, 'When there's no other place to go…' The 'You're loyal and kind-hearted' part is just a joke, a consolation."

"Hufflepuffs aren't that bad. The first female Minister of Magic was from Hufflepuff." Quinn just rolls her eyes, obviously unimpressed. "Besides, Cedric's hot," I shrug.

Quinn's eyes widen at my last statement. "Whoa. I never thought I'd ever hear that from you."

"And I've never even thought I'd ever share a conversation with you," I quip. "It's true, though. Cedric's charming."

"I really look evil, don't I?" She says, completely ignoring the rest of what I said. "Were you scared of me?"

I nod, but smile. "You really looked like a misplaced Slytherin."

_And I'm becoming too honest that I think I should be a Hufflepuff._

If the person in front of me weren't Quinn freakin' Fabray, I would've swore I saw a hint of sadness flash from her eyes. "You mean you never considered me as a plausible friend?"

I decide if I should continue being completely honest with her before shaking my head. "Never."

_I feel like I've just had a drop of Veritaserum._

"Really?" She blinks. "You never wanted to be my friend?"

I shake my head furiously. "I didn't say that. I mean, you are kind of interesting."

"Just kind of?" She smirks.

"Well, your bad reputation isn't that appealing, you know," I finally lie.

_But it's actually kind of hot._

"Really?" She gives me a look of disbelief. "Some would have found my being badass kind of hot."

_I know right._

"Well, I'm not really attracted to people who are 'badass'," I smirk as I use air quotes. "I mean, I'm a good girl, and only birds of the same feather should flock together."

She shrugs. "I've always been interested in you. I've always wondered how it would be like to be your friend."

_No way._

I fake a chuckle, which came out as a nervous one. "Yeah, right. Why haven't you ever approached me then?"

I was sort of expecting her to crack up and tell me she's just pulling my leg, but she actually looked serious. "Well, I have a 'badass' reputation to maintain. I can't just walk up to you, extend my hand, and ask you to be my friend." She simpers and gives me the I-thought-it-was-obvious look.

I nod in agreement and reach for my broomstick. "I'm famished. I need to eat. Now."

She almost frightened me when she fakes an eyebrow raise and crosses her arms. "What? Are you commanding me to go down with you?" Then, she smirks and stands up to get her own broomstick. "Kidding. I'll race you to the Great Hall, Slowpoke." She gives me a little wave before rushing down the stands.

_I could definitely get used to this._

* * *

***Veritaserum is a powerful ****truth serum**** that is most commonly used in interrogation. The ****potion**** effectively forces the drinker to answer any questions put to them truthfully. :D (Check Harry Potter Wiki. :bd)**

**Thanks for all the favorites, reviews, and alerts, guys. You're really awesome. :)**


	4. The Four Champions

Divination. It's the subject I dislike the most, but it is also the first class I have with Quinn today; so right now, I don't entirely hate it.

_Even if I won't get to sit beside her, a glimpse of her from across the room would suffice._

I sit on one of the throw pillows arranged in a circle, wondering if a certain blonde would even acknowledge my presence. I mean, technically, we're friends by now, right?

I groan slightly when Jacob Israel, a Ravenclaw—I'm afraid there isn't any other word that could describe him—pervert, sits next to me.

"Good morning, beautiful," he grins at me.

Even I, a very friendly witch, couldn't help but just give him a grimace. "Good morning?"

Then, I see a pale hand tap Jacob's shoulder.

We both look up at almost the same time to see Quinn quirk an eyebrow at him. Almost immediately, Jacob stands up and fumbles with his bag as he heads for another sit.

I rip my eyes away from him as I bite my lip to stop myself from laughing and look back up at Quinn, who is now looking back down at me with a sweet smile.

_A sweet, mesmerizing smile._

She sits down beside me, and I watch as Mike and Finn gives each other questioning looks before sitting down to the seats next to Quinn's.

"Why did you do that?"

"Do what?"

_How could anyone's voice be this seductive?_

"Jacob. You scared him away." _No way, Sherlock._ "And you stole his seat."

Quinn smirks and quirks an eyebrow. "I didn't make him do anything, but if you prefer to sit beside him, you could just say it now."

I'm about to say something about really wanting to sit beside her, not to mention be with her every single second of my life, when Rachel Berry approaches us and clears her throat to get Quinn's attention.

Quinn gives a wicked smile when she sees Rachel. I know she, as well as many other students, are annoyed with the short brunette. I can't blame her, though. Rachel keeps bothering Quinn, boasting about things especially because she's one rank lower than Quinn when it comes to grades.

"How was your weekend, Quinn?" Rachel says in a sing-song voice.

"Quite satisfying," Quinn replies before wiggling her eyebrows at me.

The moment those words leave Quinn's—beautiful—mouth, the room that was just filled with chattering noises suddenly became quiet. And no, it wasn't just me. This happens every time Quinn speaks. She speaks, everybody shuts their mouths, looks at her, and listens.

_Though I must say that her eyebrow gesture really distracted me._

"Well, I bet it was," Rachel smiles. "And I bet that it weren't as productive as mine. I've spent my weekends doing advanced readings on Dream Interpretation for our fifth year Divination classes."

"Really?" Quinn sneers. "Have you found out what your recurring wet dreams about me, Finn, and Mike mean?"

Rachel blushes furiously, opening her mouth but still finding no words to answer Quinn's statement, as the whole class, except me, chuckles loudly. It didn't help that we share the class with Slytherin students.

The laughter dies down when Professor Trelawney stumbles into the room, murmuring an excuse for her being late.

_Why doesn't Quinn's terrible attitude bother me one bit?_

* * *

I enter the Great Hall with Quinn, Finn, and Mike, and smile a bit wider when Quinn nods to the boys as they move away from us and towards the Slytherin table.

The place is candlelit, and the Goblet of Fire's been moved in front of Professor Dumbledore's empty chair at the teacher's table. Since we're still celebrating Halloween, the extravagantly prepared dinner for us is still present.

As I chew on a piece of fried meat, I steal a glance from Quinn. I still can't believe how we've come to this, sitting beside each other, actually hanging out, when I've never seen this coming.

_Who is she, really?_

After dinner, the golden plates in front of us return to their original spotless state, and silence covers the hall when Dumbledore gets to his feet.

"Well, the Goblet is almost ready to make its decision," he says. "I estimate that it requires one more minute. Now, when the champions' names are called, I would ask them please to some up to the top of the hall, walk along the staff table, and go through into the next chamber"—he indicates the door beside the staff table—"where they will be receiving their first instructions."

He takes out his wand and gives a great sweeping wave with it. At once, all the candles except those inside carved pumpkins are extinguished, plunging us all into a state of semi-darkness, leaving the goblet shining more than anything in the Great Hall. I squint for a second because of its sparkling, bright, bluish white flames. I look around, seeing everyone's watching, waiting, some checking their watches.

Then suddenly the flames inside the goblet turn red again, and sparks begin to fly from it. As a tongue of flame shoots into the air and a charred piece of parchment flutters out of it, I gasp along with everyone.

Dumbledore catches it and holds it at arm's length, so that he can read it by the light of the flames, which has turned back to bluish white.

"The champion for Durmstrang," he reads in a strong, clear voice, "will be Viktor Krum."

_No surprises there._

I roll my eyes but clap politely as I see his fan girls scream from… everywhere. Viktor rises from the Slytherin table, slouches up to Dumbledore, turns right, walks along the staff table, and disappears into the door into the next chamber.

"Bravo, Viktor!" booms Karkaroff, their headmaster, so loudly that I'm sure everyone hears him, even over the loud applause. "Knew you had it in you!"

_Talk about obsessed fan girls._

When the goblet's flames turn red again, the cheering dies down. A second piece of parchment shoots out of the goblet, propelled by flames.

"The champion for Beauxbatons is Fleur Delacour!"

A girl who resembles a Veela gets gracefully on her feet, shakes back her sheet of silvery blonde hair and weeps up between our table and Hufflepuffs'.

For a moment there, I almost forgot about Quinn.

_Almost._

Fortunately, I'm able to rip my eyes off of her swaying hips and wonderful ass—back, to let my head snap in the direction of two girls from Beauxbatons who's dissolving into tears, with their heads on their hands.

_Wow. Some people look disappointed for not being chosen._

Fleur disappears into the side chamber, and silence falls again, only this time, the silence's so stiff with excitement I can almost taste it.

_The Hogwarts champion next…_

The goblet of fire turns red once more, another batch of sparks showers from it; the tongue of flame shoots high into the air, and from its tip Dumbledore pulls out the third piece of parchment.

Dumbledore holds it out and stares at the paper. I feel my heart thumping as a long pause comes after. I feel nervous, even if I didn't put my own name in the goblet.

I continue to stare at Dumbledore with everyone as he continues to stare at the slip in his hands. Dumbledore clears his throat.

"The Hogwarts champion is," he pauses as he looks around the hall, before putting his gaze back to the piece of parchment and continuing—

"_Quinn Fabray_."

* * *

**You talked, I listened. So here it is, I've made Quinn join the tournament. Yay.**


	5. I Didn't Do It

I feel my eyes widen, and my eyes shoot at Quinn like everyone else's. She looks stunned, just like me, just like everyone else.

There's no applause, but I can hear some shuffling and buzzing. I turn around to see that some students are even standing up to get a better look at Quinn, as she sits here next to me, frozen.

Up at the top table, Professor McGonagall gets up of her feet and sweeps past Ludo Bagman and Professor Karkaroff to whisper urgently to Professor Dumbledore, who bend his ears towards her, frowning slightly.

Quinn turns to me, and I suddenly close my hanging jaw. She opens her mouth, then shuts it again. She gives me a look that silently says, "I didn't put my name in. What the hell am I going to do?"

I open my mouth to tell her to go up to the top of the hall, when Dumbledore calls, "Quinn Fabray! Up here, if you please!"

Quinn snaps her head to Dumbledore, and all I can do is look at her worriedly as she gets to her feet ever so gracefully, and walks down the hall with her same, old Quinn Fabray mask.

That's when I hear someone clapping from the Slytherin table. When I turn to find out who it is, the whole hall is already clapping along with him, or her, whoever he or she is. I try to applaud along with them, but I'm still worried when Dumbledore tells Quinn to enter the next chamber unsmiling.

_But I'm pretty sure if the girl weren't Quinn, no one would ever applaud._

Dumbledore clears his throat before unhappily chanting, "Well, now we have our three champions. I'm sure I can count upon all of you, including the remaining students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, to give your champions every ounce of support you can muster. By cheering your champion on, you will contribute real—"

He suddenly stops speaking when the fire in the goblet turns red again. Sparks are flying out of it. A long flame shoots out, and borne upon it is another piece of parchment.

Dumbledore reaches out his hand and seizes the parchment. Another long pause comes, as everyone gives each other questioning looks, not daring to say a word.

Dumbledore clears his throat yet again before he read out, "_Harry Potter_."

Automatically, I turn my head towards the Gryffindor table. Like Quinn, he looks stunned. Obviously, he didn't put his name in as well.

And there comes the buzzing and shuffling sounds again, louder than when Quinn's name was called out.

I see him turn his head towards his bestfriends, Ron and Hermione, who just stares at him back blankly.

"Well, through the door, Harry," Dumbledore calls out, in a voice colder than when he called for Quinn.

I watch as he stands up, treads on the hem of his robes and stumbles slightly. He sets off up the gap between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables. The buzzing grows louder and louder with each step he takes, and this time, there's no applause.

_I told you there weren't going to be any._

I let out a loud huff when Harry disappears into the door.

_At least, Quinn wouldn't be alone…_

* * *

When Harry enters the chamber, he sees Viktor, Fleur, and Quinn grouped around the fireplace. They look slightly impressive, silhouetted against the flames. Viktor is leaning against a mantelpiece, slightly apart from the other two. Quinn is standing with her hands behind her back, staring at Fleur, who's conversing with her until she looks around when Harry came in.

Ludo Bagman enters the room, takes Harry by the arm, and leads him forward.

"Extraordinary!" he mutters, squeezing Harry's arm. "Absolutely extraordinary! Ladies… gentleman," he adds, approaching the fireside and addressing the other three. "May I introduce—incredible though it may seem—the _fourth_ Triwizard champion?"

Viktor straightens up, his surly face darkening as he surveys Harry. Quinn doesn't react at all. She simply looks at Harry calmly, tilting her head slightly. Fleur tosses her hair, smiling, and says, "Oh, vairy funny joke, Mester Bagman."

"Joke?" Bagman repeats, bewildered. "No, no, not at all! Harry's name just came out of the goblet of fire!"

Fleur frowns. "So you're saying zat ze two of us," she looks slightly at Viktor, "will be competing against two underage wizards?"

"An underage wizard and an underage _witch_," Quinn corrects her with her eyes rolling.

The door behind them opens again, and a large group of people comes in: Professor Dumbledore, Professor Karkaroff, Madame Maxime, Professor McGonagall, and Professor Snape. Quinn hears the buzzing of the hundreds of students on the other side of the wall before Professor McGonagall closes the door.

"Madame Maxime!" says Fleur at once, striding over to her headmistress. "Zey are saying zat zis little boy and zis little girl are to compete also!"

Madame Maxime draws herself up to her full height. The top of her handsome head brushes the candle-filled chandelier, and her gigantic black satin bosom swelled.

"What is ze meaning of zis, Dumbly-dorr?" she says imperiously.

"I'd rather like to know that myself, Dumbledore," says Karkaroff. He's wearing a steely smile, and his blue eyes are like chips of ice. "_Two underage_ Hogwarts champions? I don't remember anyone telling me the host school is allowed two champions, let alone two underage ones—or have I not read the rules carefully enough?" He finishes with a short, nasty laugh.

"C'est impossible," says Madame Maxime, whose enormous hand with its many superb opals are resting upon Fleur's shoulder. "'Ogwarts cannot 'ave two champions. It is most unjust."

"We were under the impression that your Age Line would keep out younger contestants, Dumbledore," says Karkaroff, his eyes colder than ever. "Otherwise, we would, if course, have brought along a wider selection of candidates from our own schools."

"Don't blame Dumbledore for Potter's determination to break the rules, Karkaroff," Snape suddenly butts in. "He has been crossing lines ever since he arrived here—"

Harry's eyebrow shoots up slightly. "I'm not the only underage champion in the room," he thinks.

"Thank you, Severus," Dumbledore interrupts firmly, and Snape doesn't say any other word, though his eyes still glints malevolently through his curtain of greasy black hair.

Dumbledore is now looking at Harry, then at Quinn, then back at Harry again.

"Did any of you put your name in the Goblet of Fire?" Dumbledore asks calmly.

"No," Quinn and Harry say together, both aware of everybody watching them closely. Snape makes a soft noise of impatient disbelief in the shadows.

"Did any of you ask an older student to put it into the goblet for you?"

"No," both of them answer vehemently.

"Ah, but of course zey're lying!" Madame Maxime cries. Snape is now shaking his head, his lip curling.

"They could not have crossed the Age Line," says McGonagall sharply. "I'm sure we are all agreed on that—"

"Dumbly-dorr must 'ave made a mistake wiz ze line," Maxime says, shrugging.

"It is possible, of course," Dumbledore nods politely.

"Dumbledore, you know perfectly well you didn't make a mistake!" McGonagall half-shouts angrily. "Really, what nonsense! They could not have crossed the line themselves!"

"Mr. Crouch, Mr. Bagman," Karkaroff says, his voice unctuous once more. "You are our—er—objective judges. Surely you will agree that this is most irregular?"

Bagman wipes his round, boyish face with his handkerchief and looks at Mr. Crouch, who's standing outside the circle of the firelight, his face half hidden in shadow. He speaks in his usual curt voice, "We must follow the rules, and the rules clearly state that those people whose names come out of the goblet of fire are bound to compete in the Tournament."

"Well, Barty knows the rulebook back to front," Bagman says, beaming as though the matter's now closed.

"I insist upon resubmitting the names of the rest of my srudents," Karkaroff says, dropping his unctuous tone and smile. "You will set up the goblet once more,and we will continue adding names until each school has two champions. It's only fair."

"But Karkaroff, it doesn't work like that," Bagman says. "The goblet of fire's just gone out. It won't reignite until the start of the next tournament—"

"In which Durmstrang will certainly not be competing!" Karkaroff explodes. "After all our meetings and negotiations and compromises, I little expected something of this nature to occur! I have half a mind to leave right now!"

"Empty threat, Karkaroff," Crouch says. "You can't leave your champion now. He's got to compete. They've all got to compete. Binding magical contract, like Dumbledore said."

"How this situation arose, we do not know," Dumbledore speaks. "It seems to me, however, that we have no choice but to accept it. Both Quinn and Harry have been chosen to compete in the tournament. This, therefore, they will do…"

"Ah, but Dumbly-dorr—"

"My dear Madame Maxime, if you have an alternative, I would be delighted to hear it."

Dumbledore waits, but Madame Maxime doesn't speak, she merely glares. She's not the only one. Snape looks furious; Karkaroff livid. Bagman, however, looks excited.

"Well, shall we crack on, then?" he says, rubbing his hands together and smiling around the room. "Got to give our champions their instructions, haven't we? Barty, want to do the honors?"

Crouch seems to come out of a deep reverie.

"Yes," he says, as he moves forward into the firelight, "instructions. Yes, the first task is designed to test your daring, so we are not going to be telling you what it is. Courage in the face of the unknown is an important quality in a wizard. The first task will take place on November the twenty-fourth, in front of the other students and the panel of judges. The champions are not permitted to ask for or accept help of any kind from their teachers to complete the tasks in the tournament. The champions will face the first challenge armed only with their wands. They will receive information about the second task when the first is over. Owing to the demanding and time-consuming nature of the tournament, the champions are exempted from end-of-year tests."

Crouch turns to look at Dumbledore. "I think that's all, is it, Albus?"

"I think so," Dumbledore agrees, who's looking back at him with a concerned look on his face. "Are you sure you wouldn't like to stay at Hogwarts tonight, Barty?"

"No, Dumbledore, I must get back to the Ministry. It's a very busy, very difficult time at the moment. I've left young Weatherby in charge… Very enthusiastic. A little over-enthusiastic, if truth be told."

"You'll come and have a drink before you go, at least?"

"Come on, Barty, I'm staying!" Bagman says brightly. "It's all happening a Hogwarts now, you know, much more exciting than at the office!"

"I think not, Ludo," Crouch says impatiently.

"Professor Karkaroff, Madame Maxime—a nightcap?" Dumbledore offers.

But Madame Maxime has already put her arm around Fleur's shoulders, and is leading her swiftly out of the room, talking very fast in French as they go off into the Great Hall. Karkaroff beckons to Krum, and they exited too, though in silence.

"Harry, Quinn, I suggest you go up to bed," Dumbledore says, smiling at both of them. "I am sure Gryffindor and Ravenclaw are waiting to celebrate with you, and it would be a shame to deprive them of this excellent excuse to make a great deal of mess and noise."

Harry glances at Quinn, who nods, and they leave together.

The Great Hall is deserted now, the candles burnt low, giving the jagged smiles of the pumpkins an eerie, flickering quality.

"So," Harry murmurs. "Did you put your name in the goblet?"

"No," Quinn quickly responds. "You?"

Harry shakes his head. "Then, what's your plan?"

"To win," Quinn says simply. "Make you pay for defeating Ravenclaw last Quidditch match."

Harry, despite the situation, smiles slightly. "Good luck, then."

Quinn nods, and turns around when someone taps her on the shoulder.

She turns to see Karkaroff, who tells her, "Come with me for a while, Ms. Fabray."

Quinn turns and looks back at Harry who mouths good night before following Karkaroff down the corridor.

He leads her down a dark hallway and into a well-hidden, dark room, where the only source of light is a fireplace where…

"Dad?" Quinn exclaims, her eyes widening at the sight of her father's head on the flames.

"Good evening to you, too, Quinnie," his dad's head smiles. "And congratulations!"

Quinn blinks as she walks closer to the fire. "You knew about this, didn't you?"

"Well, I couldn't say I didn't. It's the Dark Lord's orders, so, of course, I couldn't _not_ do it."

"But… How? Why?"

Karkaroff interrupts and answers for her father. "We've put your name into the goblet, and Harry's under a different school's name, so he'll surely be chosen."

"But… Why me? And what if the goblet didn't choose me?"

"Why wouldn't it choose you?" Her father's eyebrows furrow. "You're a Fabray, have you forgotten? Anyway, I don't have much time. Just listen to Karkaroff when he discusses the plan, understood?"

Quinn nods, and her father smiles before his face disappears from the fire. She turns to Karkaroff as he says, "So here's the plan…"

* * *

I've been pacing back and forth in our Common Room for an hour now, trying my best to ignore Rachel's booming voice.

"It doesn't matter how she got in, Fawcett," she says to a girl who's tried and failed to fool the Age Line. "I'm sure they won't allow Quinn nor Harry to join. They've never let two champions from one school to compete, let alone two underage champions. Besides—"

She stops talking as everyone in the crowded Common Room looks towards the door that's been opened. Quinn looks around the room, and strides inside when she's got her eyes locked on mine.

Rachel blocks her way before saying, "So, Quinn, how'd you do it? Did they let you two compete? Seriously, how could you two have gotten past the Age Line? Did you resear-"

"Why do you have to be so annoying?" Quinn shouts at Rachel, causing everyone in the room to tremble both in shock and in fear. I smile at her proudly.

_Maybe her being badass isn't so bad after, all._

Quinn continues to glare at Rachel, whose eyes have bulged out of her skull, as the others stand up and find their way out of the door.

Rachel finally opens her mouth after everyone except us three has exited the room. "I'm sorry. Congratulations." And with that, she rushes out of the room.

Quinn sighs and takes the few steps separating us. She looks me in the eye and says, "I didn't do it."

I'm not sure if I'm supposed to believe her, because something tells me there's something she's hiding, but I do, anyway.

I nod. "What did they say?"

"They're letting us compete," she murmurs.

"I'll watch you kick their asses, then." I smile and give her a hug.

_God bless this huggable creature._

I hear her chuckle as she wraps her arms around my waist. "Of course, you will."


End file.
